Confrontations: Lost and Found
by Spidey-phd
Summary: Buffy's forgotten summer post Becoming. Two traumatized girls, the bitter son of a dark lord, an immortal cowboy, and a dash of Camelot equals.... Multi-Xover, revision of Once Upon A Time
1. The wheels on the bus

_**Disclaimer**__: All included or referenced BtVS characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Nest Freemark and her puppy belong to Terry Brooks. The Highlander concept also belongs to someone other than me. Some ideas (and maybe characters?) have been ripped-off from Rowling's HP series. LOTR came from Tolkien. Cole is __Shyamalan's.__ Finally, the Hope Springs crew are mine, children of a hopefully benevolent muse. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have._

_A word of warning- I was actually only exposed to two or three episodes of Buffy before I discovered BtVS fanfiction. I quickly came to love the fanfic but my feeling about the rest of the eventually-watched series were kind of wishy-washy (great dialogue but parts of the series were very blah). So if Buffy comes off as being a little out of character it might just be my preferred representation of the-little-Slayer-that-could. _

_**Eternal Plea**__: Feed back! - Point out errors, suggest changes, critique ideas, etc. In particular, I feel that dialogue is a weakness of mine. Please help me out in that area. I'd also love to hear guesses of where I'm going with this._

Dull green eyes gazed unseeingly out the Greyhound's window. The shadows of telephone poles crossed the girl's pale face in a slow, steady rhythm. The view was an endless repetition of sagebrush and tall, coarse grass with few buildings to break the monotony. Rocky, snow-capped peaks reached heavenward in the far distance. By the failing light of the setting sun, the desert's humble grays and browns and greens blending together in a featureless, drab background to her seemingly endless journey.

Even Buffy's fellow passengers were subdued and quiet. The heavy man in the seat across from her was snoring gently. The baby had quit crying after his mother had finally changed him. The whispery sound of moving paper marked the turning of magazine and book pages. The muffled sounds of guitars and drums faintly escaped from a teenager's headphones.

Buffy's blank gaze turned to meet that of the gangly, wane-looking girl who had been staring at her in an unsuccessful attempt at subtlety ever since she had gotten on. The skinny adolescent flinched, as if expecting a blow, before hurriedly looking away and huddling closer to the older boy accompanying her.

Too tired to really care, the blond teenager returned her attention to the scene passing by outside her window.

Her eyes momentarily focused upon a subtle movement among the sparse growth. A small herd of deer-like animals were lightly racing alongside the old bus. The slight tan and cream creatures appeared to be almost floating, barely touching the ground before moving skyward once more. But even their speed could not equal that of the speeding vehicle and all too quickly the animals disappeared from sight, a fleeting dream in the darkening twilight.

A crooked smile flickered upon her full lips.

The antelope had come and gone so quickly, leaving no trace of their passage. It was doubtful that anyone else had even noticed them.

The blond girl released a silent sigh and raised her hand to see the ring more clearly in the light of the waning sun. The delicate jewelry was simple and unelaborate. A crowned heart held out by two hands- a symbol and a promise of the eternal love she had been offered by her Angel. An emblem of shattered dreams and lost innocence.

The last lingering rays of sunlight left her gently fingering the small object.

Up near the front of the bus the tired mother was trying to persuade her older son to eat. The tousle-headed kid was protesting being forced to eat peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches for yet another meal.

"Hold on!" the driver shouted as he stomped on the brake.

The stop was sudden and unexpected. The heavy man's head smacked into the seat ahead of him. A dropped drink splashed across the floor. The baby and his older brother both started to cry again.

The vehicle awkwardly lurched to a stop.

The Greyhound's interior was a tumult of confusion.

"What happened?" the heavy man asked in a daze. "Did we crash?"

"No." The man in the Raiders jacket pointed out the front window. "They did."

A large car laid upside-down across the road an uncomfortably short distance from the front of the bus.

"Whoa." the teenager said as he slipped the headphones from his head and rose to his feet. "That had to hurt."

"Please remain calm." the driver stated over the P.A. system. "This is just a temporary delay. Is everyone all right? Did anyone get hurt?"

"I think I sprained my wrist." said a woman from the back of the bus.

"Is my nose bleeding?" the heavy man moaned. He moved the handkerchief and inclined his head to give Buffy a better view of his hairy nostrils.

The mother was trying to calm down her kids. "Hush, now." she murmured as she rocked the baby in her arms. "Billy, I need you to be Mommy's big helper. See if you can find Jason's bottle in the diaper bag."

But all of the noise and commotion was just background static to the blond girl. It slid past her senses like the rumble of a hundred different conversations at a party and her attention snagged upon the only thing in the situation that truly mattered to a Slayer- the presence of demons.

Vampires surrounded the stopped bus on all sides, just staying back far enough to prevent discovery by the weak senses of their intended prey. Their hideous, slitted eyes almost glowed in the moonlight. The demons' ragged, yellow teeth snarled in anticipation as the encircling monsters shifted impatiently.

A child appeared in the glare of the bus' headlights, limping and waving frantically. Her clothing was dirty and torn. Dry blood clotted her hair and obscured half her face. "Help!" she called. Tears ran down her face. "Please, help me!" She stumbled and fell.

"Open the door!" the Raiders' fan ordered as he rushed forward. Several others were rising to follow.

"Where is the first-aid kit?" a woman asked.

"Radio for an ambulance." someone else recommended.

"I'm a registered EMT." another offered.

The driver opened the door without pausing to consider.

"No." snapped Buffy.

A momentary pause followed as everyone turned to the source of the unexpected protest.

"Shut the door." she ordered.

Later, the surviving passengers would remember that something had seemed to have changed in the slight teen. Is was if she had grown taller somehow. Or maybe there was something about the surrounding gloom which made her green eyes appear to almost smolder with dangerous energy. Possibly it was merely the confidence in her stance or the authority in her voice which compelled their wills to give way to her own, like twigs caught up by a thundering flash flood.

There was a long moment of hesitation when the passengers almost obeyed her command but a single voice of protest was all that was required to break the spell. "Are you kidding?" The heavy man said. "We just can't leave that girl out there!"

Angry agreements rumbled from several throats.

Buffy shouted to be heard over the crowd. "It's a trap. A set-up." But she already knew she had lost them. For a brief fraction of time they had Believed- the masks and curtains stripped away to allow them to feel the Truth resonate with chilling peals throughout their cowering forms- but the revelation was too great, too over-whelming. The illusion of safety through burying one's head in the sand chosen over seeing the lion's gleaming eyes.

"You-" the woman pointed at Buffy for emphasis, "Watch way too much TV."

The bloody girl outside stumbled against the front of the bus. Her trembling hand left a bloody streak upon the windshield. "Please," she cried, "My mommy and daddy are still in the car."

Buffy heard a gasp from the pale girl who had caught her attention earlier. The younger girl's eyes were full of fear as she shrank back from the window, her gaze casting about wildly in the darkness beyond. The kid might not be able to see the vampires like a Slayer could but she was obviously able to somehow sense the demonic presence.

The girl flinched as the boy with her put an arm around her shoulders and bent his head down next to hers to whisper a quick question. His head snapped up at her reply. "Wait!" he shouted. "She's right. It's an ambush."

The jock in the Raiders jacket snorted. "If you're not going to help out, shut up and stay out of the way." He jumped down the stairs, leading the way for several other passengers.

Buffy swore under her breath and looked out the window. She swore again and slammed a fist against the luggage rack in frustration.

The boy pulled out a cell phone and hit speed-dial. His eyes moved up to meet hers while the phone rang.

Someone picked up on the other end after the first ring.

"This is Matt. The Playhouse was a diversion. We're just short of old Carson's bridge and in serious trouble. How fast can you guys get here?" the teenager demanded.

Buffy's eyes narrowed as her peculiar companion listened to the answer from the unknown party.

The now-identified 'Matt' paled when he heard the reply. "Okay. Floor it." He snapped the phone shut and focused his gaze on her once again. "What do you think of our chances of surviving until the cavalry arrives?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" she answered dryly, accepting the situation and the lack of time for questions. She unlocked the emergency window and pushed it open far enough for her slim form to slide through. Removing a wooden stake from the depths of her over-sized leather jacket, the Slayer somersaulted out into the night.

"Does it matter?" Matt echoed with a grimace. He grabbed his backpack and yanked it open to reveal a strange collection of water guns, crosses and sharpened wooden sticks.

"Nest," he tried to make his voice as reassuring and confident as possible as he returned his attention to the trembling girl he was traveling with. "Everything is going to be all right. Your Aunt Liz and everyone else are going to be here any minute now. We just need to stall for time and make sure all of the passengers are okay. You stay here and I'll go-"

"No!" The girl desperately wrapped her arms around him and sobbed. "Don't leave me alone! They'll take me away again and… and…"

"Shhh." He soothed her, enveloping her in a comforting hug. "You're going to be okay. Nothing is going to happen to you. Okay? You're going to be just fine. I just need to make sure everyone else is okay until the rescue crew gets here. Do you think Rome would ever let anything happen to you?" He grinned when she hesitantly shook her head. "You are going to be just fine." He handed her a large cross and a water gun from his bag. "You know how to use these, right? Now you stay here and hang tight while I go try to get everyone back on the bus. There is nothing to be afraid of. Okay?"

Nest managed a jerky nod.

Matt squeezed her shoulder one last time before rising to his feet and striding towards the front of the bus. His concealed the trembling in his hands from the young girl as he slapped a cross to the strange Velcro strip on each forearm of his jacket and pulled out a large water-gun from his backpack.

The mother of the two children gaped at him as he strode forward pumping the gun to build up pressure. She pulled her older son protectively back against her chest as he went past, clearly doubting his mental stability.

He smiled crookedly. "I know what you're thinking- soundtrack. You just can't have a good action scene without a soundtrack. Don't worry. I'll have my agent get on it as soon as possible."

At the front of the bus, Matt turned back to look at Nest. She was huddled down in her chair, her big eyes full of fear and pleading for him to come back. He flashed her a cocky grin before turning towards the open door.

Taking a deep breath, he stepping off the bus and into the night.


	2. The Chosen One

Alighting soundlessly in the shadowy concealment below the bus, Buffy hesitated for a moment to survey her surroundings. The situation did not look good for the passengers. The overturned vehicle blocking the road was one of those big, old luxury cars that seemed to be a not far distant cousin to a tank. Even if they were to ram the wreckage with the bus in an escape attempt, the narrow bridge on the other side was too close to make such an attempt feasible.

The two-lane highway was not wide enough for the big bus to turn around on and the thick bordering sagebrush prohibited any thoughts of going off-road.

The bus and its passengers weren't going to go anywhere until after all of the action was over and done with.

A small bitter smile crossed the Slayers face. Wasn't that always the way it was? The Chosen**One**defending the world from the vampires, the demons, and the other forces of darkness night after demanding night? Pouring all of her sweat and tears and blood and dreams into an effort to save as many people as possible until it was all too much or the bad guy was too powerful. Then she died and, without a blink, the cosmos called another girl to take her place. The Chosen One. The Vampire Slayer. The boogie man who terrorized Earth's population of demons and monsters. A temporary convenience. An unappreciated, unknown slave to a mystic duty handed down through countless generations of young girls who had all met violent, unnoticed ends. Fate's abused plaything and butt of all her jokes.

Quite as shadows she lived in, The Slayer slipped forward toward the demons waiting in the darkness.


	3. Not alone

Matt Field's heart seemed bound and determined to pound its way out of his chest. With each rapid beat, he could feel the impact within his breast as the muscular organ battled with his hyperventilating lungs for the limited space.

His thoughts cast about wildly for a solution to his current dilemma and came to rest upon the blonde girl who had slipped out the bus window. She was an enigma, an unknown factor in the night's high-stakes game of chance. The slight girl in the oversized leather jacket had caught his attention from the moment he had gotten onto the bus. She was an exceptionally pretty girl despite the lack of make-up, the unnatural pallor to her tanned skin and the dark rings under her reddened eyes. The cross around her neck had been a welcome assurance. The bandages on the palms of her hands had been a curiosity. As had Nest's trembling reaction to her disinterested gaze. Who was the blond girl? What was she doing here? Was she a friend or foe?

And then had come the encounter with the overturned car and the lethargic, unresponsive girl had suddenly become alert. The change had been awesome, like a pouring gasoline onto glowing coals. The girl had surged to her feet, seeming almost to crackle with energy, her eyes bright and piercing with purpose. Her movements had been sure, graceful, and powerful. Her unheeded commands had been spoken with surety and confidence, as from one who was intimately and thoroughly knowledgeable of what she spoke. Then she had slipped out into the night, a nocturnal predator going out in search of prey.

Whoever she was, whatever she was, she was not merely the hurt young woman she had seemed at first glance. She seemed to be on the side of the good guys and he grasped firmly onto that one small comfort.

He wasn't alone against the monsters of the night.


	4. SuperBuffy

Matt tried to be inconspicuous in his scanning of the surrounding darkness as he approached the small group of people milling around the little girl. The blond stranger had seemed to instantly recognize the danger which encircled the stopped bus but it took him longer. The signs were there, faint and subtle to his weaker senses but nevertheless undeniable.

Nature held her breath and hid her face from the stalking monsters, leaving the desert scene eerily silent. No cricket's chirp or owl's hoot broke the silence. No distant coyote dared to raise his voice. There was nothing but the hushed rustle of sagebrush and stirring grass as the nocturnal predators slowly moved in to claim their prey. An occasional faint yellow gleam could be seen when the moonlight reflected off the demons' eyes at the right angle, marking the progress of their approach and providing chilling hints of how many of the vampires were present.

There were at least four of the monsters closing in on the front of the bus from the right side. Assuming there were similarly sized groups closing in on the other side and back of the bus, and none on the other side of the overturned car where they could unintentionally be revealed by the glow from the bus' lights, he figured there could easily be as many as fifteen of the blood suckers participating in the surprise attack. He hoped he was severely overestimating their numbers.

"How is she?" one of the passengers asked the young man who had claimed to be an E.M.T..

The E.M.T. had a curious expression on his face as he examined the little girl, feeling first one wrist then one side of her neck then the other side. "I… I can't find a pulse." he finally managed to say. He knelt down to press his ear against the child's chest.

"There's no one here." Raiders jacket announced as he looking into the overturned car, confused. "Could they have been thrown from the car? But none of the windows are broken."

"Becky," a kind-faced older woman asked, "How did you get out of the car?"

"I don't remember." The little girl looked up with tear filled eyes. "Where are my mommy and daddy?"

"I don't know, dear." she answered, full of pity for the poor child. "But everything is going to be all right."

The E.M.T. pulled back and looked at the little girl, completely bewildered.

"What is it?" the grandmotherly woman asked in concern. "Is something wrong?"

"I can't find a heartbeat. I can't feel her pulse or measure respiratory rate. She's hypothermic but it's a warm night and she not wet or clammy. I can't find any external injuries. I don't know where she bleeding from. Unless it's from her parents..?"

The little girl smiled, her angelic features warped by an evil smirk. "I don't think Mommy and Daddy needed it anymore."

The adults froze for a moment in disbelief.

The child's face changed before their eyes. Big blue, tear-filled eyes replaced by gleaming yellow-and-red orbs under a heavy brow ridge. Her pouting lips pulling back to reveal jagged, sharp teeth. The quivering, sobbing innocence discarded to expose a dark, malicious evil. With a laugh, the demon seized the E.M.T. by his shirt front and yanked him forward where her teeth could sink into his exposed throat.

The grandmother screamed.

A cool, clear liquid soared in a pressurized stream from one side of the stunned group of passengers and into the demon's face.

With a howl of pain, the demon shoved herself away from the E.M.T. and the burning water, her face charred and smoking from contact with the holy water. She reeled away, her clawed hands clasped to her burnt face. Her undamaged eye peered out hatefully from between her fingers at her attacker. "You!" she hissed in recognition.

"Me." Matt affirmed as he strode closer, pumping the water gun to maintain pressure.

The demon smiled. "We'll make you pay for that, mutt. By the time your friends get here, we'll be long gone and you with us. I'll make you scream until your throat bleeds and -"

The demon's taunting words were cut off by another blast of the holy water.

"I've already heard that one." Matt admonished dryly. He turned to regard the enclosing circle of vampires.

The other passengers started with fright, their whole attention having been fixed upon the confrontation between Matt and the little girl. The grandmother's second scream was joined by startled cries from several of the other passengers.

"Keep cool, folks." he assured them with a calmness in his voice that he was far from feeling. "These ugly little freaks aren't so tough." He aimed high and pulled the trigger, causing several of the vampires to hesitate to avoid the ensuing stream of water. "You," he pointed at the big guy in the Raider's jacket, "Start handing out the weapons in my pack. Use the crosses like shields. Spray them with holy water to hurt them. Go for the eyes and face if possible. The stakes are for their hearts but be careful, they're stronger and faster than we are."

"Crosses? Holy water?" Fat Man demanded dubiously. "Do you want us to believe that those people are vampires?" He snorted. "What is this? A joke? Some type of MTV show?"

Matt glared at him with frustrated rage. He abruptly ripped one of the sharpened crosses off his sleeve and strode over to the little girl. The demon hissed and feigned a retreat before lunging at the approaching teenager.

Expecting the move, the boy merely held up the sharp piece of wood and allowed her momentum to drive the point into her unbeating heart, the impact staggering him and driving him to his back.

The demon atop him snarled with hatred one last time before exploding in a cloud of ash.

Coughing harshly and waving one hand to clear the air in front of him, Matt climbed back to his feet. He looked at the mismatched group surrounding him through watery eyes. "Believe it. I don't have time to convince you that there really are things that go bump in the night."

The sound of someone slowly clapping their hands together came in mocking reply to the teenager's demonstration.

"A wonderful show, Matthew. Really." A handsome, well-dressed man mocked him as he stepped into view. "Courage. Nobility. Dedication to the ideals of truth and virtue." The group of passengers shrank back as the stranger drew closer, parting like the Red Sea before Moses, until the dark-haired vampire loomed over the stocky teenager. "Once a Boy Scout, always a Boy Scout?"

"Robert." Matt acknowledged, hoping that the vampire hadn't noticed the crack in his voice. "It's been a while. We were beginning to hope that you might have taken up tanning."

"No such luck, I'm afraid. No, I merely took a short sabbatical from our games to await a more opportune moment. And now that that moment has come…"

Demonic visages fully exposed, the vampires began to emerge from darkness as they advanced upon their terrified prey.

"Let the party begin." Robert ordered with a flourish.

One of the advancing vampires suddenly froze, a shocked and uncomprehending look plastered on his grotesque features. With an angry wail, he exploded into a cloud of dust.

Everyone's attention immediately focused upon the slender, leather-clad figure standing behind the settling ashes.

"Look, guys, I hate to be a downer but its late, I'm tired and it's kind of past curfew," Buffy quipped. "Why don't all of the undead present just go find a nice crypt somewhere for their little social gathering and all of the stupid passengers who didn't want to listen to me get back on the stupid bus, back in their seats and we can get back on the stupid road?"

Snarling with rage, the three nearest vampires moved to attack the blond girl who had slain their comrade.

Buffy sighed in exasperation. "You have no idea how hard-" She blocked a punch, locking up the offending limb and spinning with it to launch the vampire away from her. "- you are testing my already stretched-" A fashionably-booted heel impacted violently with the next onrushing demon's face. "- patience. If you're not careful, -" She moved forward to meet the final vampire. A powerful right hook snapped his head back quickly followed by a leg sweep which left him sprawled on the ground. The wooden stake penetrated his heart with a dull thud. "- you might make me angry." A second hellish wail marked the vampire's passage into dust.

She stood up and began to brush the ashes off of her jacket. "And I don't think you want to see me angry."

Robert smirked in savage appreciation, holding up a hand to prevent his vengeful followers from rushing forward. "I must respectfully disagree," he replied with a courtly bow, his intense gaze never leaving hers. "I have found, in my own experience, that a woman's beauty is often shown to best advantage when her passions are aroused."

A blond eyebrow was arched in response. "Is this a come on? 'Cause, I gotta say, the whole people-in-mortal-peril-of-being-eaten thing really isn't my thing." She stopped for a moment in reconsideration before correcting herself. "Well, I guess it kind of is. Just not in your kind of way. Less with the 'I've come to suck your blood' and more with the 'Hiyah! Take that, evil-doers. Super-Buffy is here to save the day.'"

"Buffy." He smoothly cut into her valley-girl ramble. "Is that your name?"

"Yeah." She shrugged, feeling defensive. "What were my parents smoking, huh? Is that what you were going to say? Not exactly new material. If I had a dime for every monster who has rehashed that one I definitely wouldn't be wearing last year's fashions."

"Last year's?" The vampire repeated quizzically, eyeing her up and down, and enjoying the view considerably in the process. Sudden understanding lit up his face. "You're from the coast."

"Uh, yeah?" she prompted.

"So this is Idaho. Land of potatoes. Home of the one gas-station town. Half the culture here is still stuck back in the 1800's and other half is just entering this century. The clothing styles here are at least several months behind California."

"Really?" Buffy asked happily. "That's so cool. 'Cause my clothing budget just went through a major down-sizing. And now, when I'm all bracing myself for a trip to Wally's World of slave-labor produced fashions I find out I'm still good until…" She shook her head. "Wait, why am I taking your word on this? You're dead. And evil."

Somewhere in their conversation, Robert had moved forward until he was looking down into her eyes. Or had she moved closer to him? He had very nice eyes, she idly noted, a warm color of blue framed by long, dark eyelashes. His chin was a little on the delicate side for her taste, slightly too effeminate compared to the strong-jawed guys she usually went for. But his lips were just right, with a slight bad-boy pout that made her wonder what they would be like to kiss.

She blushed guiltily at the thought and ducked her head. 'Down, girl!' A warm feeling was starting to grow within her belly. 'Oh, no!' she mentally moaned as the realization hit her. 'I must look a mess- no make-up, I haven't slept in days and I probably smell like a locker room.'

Robert gently pulled up on her chin until her mortified gaze met his. "Please forgive my forwardness, but you are perhaps the most beautiful woman I have ever had the fortune to meet."

She colored deeply, a shy smile lighting her face. He had a British accent, just like Giles. Only his accent seemed to have toned down a bit and Giles' voice had never been so thrillingly sexy. She could just image her and Robert alone in his castle, sitting together in front of a crackling fire as he whispered seductive promises in her ear.

As if noticing for the first time, he gently turned her injured palms in his strong grip. "What happened to your hands?"

"I-… It was a…" Buffy stammered, looking stricken. 'Angel. If he finds out about Angel then he'll never look at me again. He'll think I'm some kind of dirty slut and easy and a whore and…'

Her mental wail died off as he carefully unwrapped her hands to reveal the nearly healed wounds from Angelus' sword. He regarded the red lines sorrowful, "They look painful."

She tried to shrug carelessly. "Not really. Just a bit itchy now."

The kind look he gave her was so full of sympathy that she nearly broke down into tears. He raised one hand to his mouth, his passionate gaze locked on her. "Please, allow me to kiss it better."

"You don't have to-" Her protest was cut off by a incredible feeling of fiery pleasure spilling from his lips and nearly causing her knees to buckle from the shock. "Oh…" she moaned, leaning into his hard chest to keep from falling.

Wave after wave of the most excruciating pleasure she had ever felt swept through her slender frame with each movement of his soft lips. Her lungs were gasping for air and she felt as if the world were spinning around her. Her eyelids half-opened as he pulled her trembling form more tightly against him.

As if through a haze, she could see the young man from earlier, the one who had tried to protect the rest of the passengers from the vampires. What was his name again? He had gathered the rest of the passengers into a tight circle and was trying to guide them back in the direction of the bus. The encircling vampires kept rushing them only to swerve aside at the last moment, deterred by the outstretched crosses and streams of holy water. But it was just a matter of time before the protective circle fell apart under the strain. She could already see some of the panicked passengers were wildly looking around and gauging their chances of successfully making a break for the bus. The young man was waving at her and it looked like he was shouting, but she couldn't hear anything he was saying. Even when she tried to listen to him, there was just a dull roar of sound which caused her head to hurt.

Robert's mouth had moved to her wrist. His grip on her arm was no longer gentle. It hurt, though she didn't know why she cared. She could almost feel her bones groaning under the pressure and she was sure that a normal person's bones would have broken long ago.

Her gaze returned to the young man. Matt. That was his name. Robert had called him Matthew. It seemed like there was some kind of history between the two of them.

A vampire grew impatient and tried to force his way through the wall of crosses and holy water. Fat Man panicked, dropping his cross and shielding himself behind the woman who had been standing next to him. The woman fought free of his panicked grasping and used her water gun to cut off the vampire's assault with a well-placed shot into the eyes. A final jab with her elbow freed the woman from Fat Man's impeding grip and she moved to fill in the gap left by his absence. Fat Man wasn't the only one who had backed into the safety of the inside of the circle and those defenders remaining on the outside were struggling to meet their increasing responsibilities.

Buffy's vision was becoming sharper and with it, it seemed as if a veil was dropping from her mind as well.

Robert's fangs were buried in her wrist, worrying the already torn tissue in an attempt to increase the flow of her blood. The feelings of pleasure had stopped. In fact, they didn't seem to have ever existed at all. There was just pain and blood and the nauseating realization of being violated.

For the tiniest fraction of a moment, she hesitated. Would it be so wrong to do nothing? To allow blissful death to take away all of the pain and the horror? Who knows, maybe somehow, by some miracle, could Angel's soul have gone to heaven? Maybe they could be together again. She would be able to beg for his forgiveness and be held close in his strong arms. To be able to see his gentle gaze, to hear his soft laugh, to allow his love and kindness to wash away all of the harsh memories left by the monster who had worn her lover's face…

"No!" Matt was yelling as a passenger broke under the strain and tried to run for the presumed safety of the bus. It was the big guy in the Raiders jacket. He looked and moved like he might have played college football somewhere in the not distant past. For his bulk, he moved surprisingly fast and he showed no hesitation before attempting to bull over a vampire which got in his way. Surprise was on his side, too, for he was actually able to stagger the demon with an unexpected blow to the temple and get past it. But the enraged monster quickly regained its footing and had brought the man to the ground long before he would have reached the bus.

The people… They needed help. They needed her help. They needed the Vampire Slayer.

She felt like she needed a day in a mall and a credit card with a very high spending limit but whatever.

"Excuse me." Buffy reprimanded Robert in her very best blond-bimbo voice. "I thought I made it clear- No visible hickeys." Her other fist came across to pound his pretty-boy face (well, at the moment it was sort of bumpy and ridgey and not really the most attractive) into pulp.

Robert stumbled back to land ungracefully in a clump of sagebrush. He clasped his hands protectively to his face. "I think you broke my bloody nose!"

She arched a brow at him. "And I'm supposed to care because…?" The commotion behind her had died down as everyone had slowed to watch their confrontation resume. As casually as she could, she readjusted her bandages and applied pressure to slow the bleeding from her severed artery. Regardless of Slayer healing, she had been dead on her feet before this little brawl had even started and a serious loss of blood was not helping her to feel any steadier on her feet. In fact, her vision was really kind of spotty and it felt like the world was spinning. Her limbs felt more like Jell-O Jigglers than weapons and her blood was still trying to spurt from her body with every weakening beat of her heart.

She smirked arrogantly at Robert. "So are you just going to sit there all night or are we going to fight sometime?"

The vampire looked surprised for a moment before scrambling back to his feet. Quickly regaining his equilibrium, his eyes hardened and he glared warningly at the other vampires before returning his attention to her. "As I was saying, I prefer my women to be passionate, sensual creatures capable of enjoying all that this world has to offer." Noticing the blood upon his hands, he gave it a slow lick and raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "You obviously qualify." He wiped his fingers under his nose then delicately sucked the blood off.

"I repeat myself- are we going to fight sometime tonight or is this just a social call?" Buffy felt a growing horror fill her breast at his cold smile. 'He knows I can barely stand. There is no way I could take him like this.'

Robert gestured casually at the puddle of blood under her arm. "That seems like such a waste. Freddie," he called to one of his minions, "Why don't you see if you can find bowl or something. I'd hate to waste any of that good Grade-A Slayer blood."

The rest of the vampires made various sounds of fear and surprise and scrambled to put a little more distance between themselves and the Vampire Slayer.

Robert threw back his head and laughed disdainfully. "Calm down. She's not going to hurt any of you. Are you, kitten?" he asked condescendingly.

Buffy glared at him but did not reply, focusing her attention on applying pressure to the inside of her elbow to slow the blood flow to her wrist.

"I should have realized it sooner." He said to his minions as he circled around his bleeding subject. "She's from California, home of the infamous Hellmouth. A teenage girl, all alone, fighting the demons of the night with nothing but a stake, a cross," he disdainfully reached out and tore the necklace away from her unresisting neck, "and her belief that Good will somehow always triumph over Evil."

He circled around in front of her. "Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. William the Bloody. And Drusilla, the vampire witch. You stopped them all?"

Her eyes defiantly rose to meet his. "Yes."

He smiled and leaned in closer. "And I, a mere babe to the world of the vampire, I am the one to defeat you."

"Who says I'm defeated?" The hand she had been using to stop the blood flow lunged forward from under her coat grasping a wooden stake.

Robert's eyes grew wide with horror. He lunged backward, but not before the stake was impaled within his chest. "No!" he screamed, waiting to disintegrate into a pile of dust.

Buffy stumbled to her knees, completely spent by the sudden exertion. She couldn't even lift her head, only waiting for the cloud of ash as proof of her final success before she would allow herself to pass out.

Nothing happened.

Robert gaped down in disbelieving astonishment. "You- You missed." He wrenched the stake from his chest and fingered the remaining wound in laughing realization. "You missed!"

Buffy's eyes closed in bitter defeat and she allowed herself to sink to the ground, too tired and spent to even cry.

"Wraith!" a small, quivering voice called from beside her. "Wraith!"

Confused, Buffy opened her eyes and looked toward the direction of the call. It was the skinny, scared girl from the bus. She was trembling with fear but had somehow forced herself to get off the bus and creep through the distracted vampires until she could kneel beside the spent Slayer. Buffy tried to protest, to tell the girl to get away, to run for the protection of the circle of crosses, but all that emerged was a groan.

"Nest." Robert purred in delight. "So good to see you again."

"Get away from her." The trembling girl hissed at him over Buffy's prone body. Buffy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and her 'Slayer sense' snapped to life. It felt almost as if a mystical lighting bolt had passed over her and maybe one had, for she heard Robert yell in pain and crash to the ground farther away from her.

"Wraith." Nest snapped, her voice louder and more confident. "Keep the demons away from us."

To Buffy's 'Slayer Sense' it seemed as if magic seemed to suddenly rush together until it had formed a massive, dangerous figure. The newly-formed creature snarled viciously as it lunged forward. Buffy could hear the passengers cries of fear quickly die out, leaving only the vampires' screams and retreating curses. The passengers began to become excited and to attack the remaining vampires. She could hear them yell directions and encouragement to each other.

Loud popping noises accompanied by flashes of magic marked the appearance of Matt's promised reinforcements.

More 'mystic lighting bolts' began to fill the air around her. She realized that some of them were different, for she could see their blinding glare even through her haze-filled vision. Another monster had joined Wraith in his pursuit of the fleeing vampires, answering his ferocious howls with its own savage roars. Added to the shouts and yells of the passengers and the snarling of the vampires, the overall effect was not unlike that of a zoo where all of the animals had been turned lose.

She belatedly realized that she was being carefully rolled onto her back. The numbness, the lethargy, the weakness, she had experienced them all just over a year ago when she had been fed upon by vampire called The Master and left to drown in a stagnant underground pool. Buffy had died, as evidenced by the calling of another Vampire Slayer, but Xander and Angel had managed to bring her back through the timely use of CPR. She didn't think mouth-to-mouth was going to be enough this time.

Buffy's eyes were having trouble focusing. Nest's tear-filled eyes looked too big for her gaunt features. Buffy realized that the younger girl was covered with blood. Without the restraining pressure on her arm to act as a tourniquet, the severed blood vessel was spraying her remaining blood supply all over the poor kid. Nest had ripped off her jacket and was trying to stop the flow. The frantic adolescent was screaming at someone to hurry. Her voice sounded strangely distant.

Buffy's vision was beginning to go dark. She didn't feel as cold as she had earlier. The pain was still there, but it had diminished to the point of being something she was merely aware of. It was becoming harder to breathe and Buffy was discovering she really didn't care to make the effort.

"Look at me," Nest shrieked. "Look at me!"

She slapped the Slayer's cheek. Then slapped her again even harder.

The shock snapped Buffy back to alertness. Her surprised green eyes looked up to meet Nest's blazing blue ones.

"Look. At. Me." Nest ground out through gritted teeth as she desperately forced her magic through their locked gazes.

Buffy arched upward in a convulsion of unbelievable pain as molten steel seemed to slam in pressurized streams through every inch of her body, unable to tear her eyes away from Nest's. Her muscles were screaming in agony and it seemed impossible that her tendons and ligaments were not parting under the strain. Her body arched skyward, her neck pulling her head down and back as if she were in the late stage of a tetanus infection. Her lungs were too paralyzed by pain to even find the air to scream. Throughout the agonizing process, Buffy tortured gaze was forcibly held by Nest as the thin girl forced more and more of her magic into the dying Slayer.

After what seemed like an eternity of agony, the pain was replaced by a cool, soothing flow of comfort. She could almost hear the individual cells of her body sigh in relief. She sank down, completely exhausted and spent. The gentle flow continued to move throughout her body, soothing and comforting all of her various aches and pains until she seemed almost to be floating upon a cloud of euphoric peace.

Finally freed from whatever hold the younger girl had held upon her, Buffy closed her eyes. Great, salty tears of bitterness flowed down her cheeks as she slipped into unconsciousness. Why wouldn't they just let her die?


	5. Soup and a shower

_I kind of feel like I went a little too in depth with the description of the house in this chapter but writing it took a surprising amount of time so I left it in for now. If anyone really wants me to trim off some of the fat I will but until I hear back from you I'll just keep everything the way it is._

Birds were happily chirping and singing close by.

That was the first thing Buffy noticed as she slowly arose into consciousness. She'd always thought it strange that the cute little chirps and whistles were territorial in nature- Get away from that worm. I saw it first! Oh, yeah? Then I'm going to claim this bush. That's my bush! Not anymore it's not. Oh, yeah? Yeah! Oh, yeah? Yeah!

Really not all that different from guys in high school. Not that that meant that it made any more sense but at least it showed that the whole thing must be based upon some kind of universal constant. Maybe that testosterone really did kill brain cells?

Buffy's attention was next caught by the assortment of smells carried over her face by a soft breeze. Lilac bushes in bloom. Roses and other flowery aromas. Fresh-cut grass. Fertilizer. Damp earth. And the wonderful smell of food. Apple pie. Chicken soup. Home-made rolls. Good smells. Yummy smells.

Her stomach growled hungrily and told her brain to get off its lazy duff and get it to the source of those saliva-inducing aromas.

Buffy groaned and slowly stretched. Her limbs and spine popped and snapped with the movement. She sat up, rolling her neck around as she did so.

Finally opening her eyes, Buffy found herself in a small but comfortable room. She was in a queen-sized bed under a Levi patch quilt. The bed stand next to her supported a clock which said 5:47 p.m., two large bouquets of flowers and one plastic cup stuffed with lilac blossoms. The walls were decorated with carefully hand-painted crafts, a small calendar from "Simpson Feed and Fertilizer" with this month's photo showing a line of cute red-and-white calves poking their heads out of their individual pens to gaze curiously in the direction of the camera, and a large framed picture of what Buffy assumed was Jesus healing a blind man.

As Buffy moved to stretch her arms out once more, she looked down to discover that someone had changed her clothes, dressing her in a T-shirt and pajama pants she'd had in her bag. Buffy blushed a little at the realization but quickly looked around the room for the rest of her belongings. Her bag lay next to a wooden chest against the opposite wall. A black leather jacket lay atop the chest.

Buffy rubbed away the sleep from her eyes then climbed out of bed. Her limbs still didn't have their usual strength and she felt a little light-headed, but she thought that a good meal would take care of that.

She hesitated on her way to the door to look in the full-length mirror. 'I look a mess,' she quickly concluded. She was sporting a serious case of bed head. The bandage covering her left hand and wrist only added to the impression that she had plugged herself into an electrical outlet. She'd lost weight, further reducing what curves she had managed to retain after over two years of being the Slayer. No make-up. And she didn't dare check to see how badly she needed a shower.

Quietly, she crossed the floor and opened the door enough to peer out. The bedroom she was in was at the end of a short hallway. A bathroom was located at the end of the hall, immediately to her right. A look through the slightly open door across the hall revealed another bedroom which, judging by the assortment of clothing strewn around the room, the posters liberally plastered to walls and ceiling , and the two unmade twin-size beds, was inhabited by a couple of young teenage girls.

Feeling awkward, having not yet even met her unexpected host, she nevertheless proceeded to use the bathroom. Having saved her bladder from spontaneously exploding, Buffy snagged an elastic from her bag to pull her hair back into some semblance of order before proceeding with her exploration of the house.

Farther down the hall lay a door, which she guessed concealed a third bedroom, and an archway which led into an office/library. A whole wall was dedicated to a fairly impressive collection of books, many of which were held together by duct tape or missing their covers completely. A computer desk and filing cabinet rested between the two windows. A couple of plants hung from the ceiling. Most of the remaining space was filled by an old sofa, a card table, and a set of shelves jammed with board and card games. Someone had left an unfinished game of Monopoly spread out on the floor.

Following the quite murmur of voices, Buffy continued down a short set of stairs into the kitchen. Like the rest of the house she had seen, it had a warm country house feel. Crayola masterpieces decorated the front of the fridge. An Oldies station was playing on the radio. More crafts and hand-painted items were spread throughout the room and hung from the walls. Several potted plants and flowers were scattered around the room and along the window sills. Three crisp apple pies had been set upon a cookie rack to cool, saturating the whole room with their heady aroma. An enormous pot of chicken dumpling soup was bubbling merrily away on the stove top.

Stirring the pot was a woman who could have stepped right out of Buffy's childhood books of fairy tales. The woman was a little on the plump side, with graying hair, red cheeks and laugh lines framing her smile and twinkling brown eyes. She was wearing a T-shirt which boldly proclaimed her to be "The World's Greatest Grandma" and unconsciously tapping her foot in time with the Beetles as she simultaneously prepared dinner and carried on a conversation with the second woman.

The second woman stood at the sink, her back toward the doorway in which Buffy stood, peeling cucumbers into the trash disposal. She was tall and athletic in build. Her auburn hair was fashionably cut short and styled. There was something about the second woman, perhaps a tenseness in her shoulders or the way her head wasn't turning to look at the first woman, that told Buffy that she was already aware of the Slayer's presence.

"Uh, Hi." Buffy finally said.

The shorter woman gave a start, turning to identify the source of the sound. Upon sighting Buffy, she beamed warmly. "You're awake! Wonderful! We were so worried. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess." Buffy shrugged. "A little tired but good. The smell woke me up," she said indicating the culinary delights which decorated the kitchen. "It smells amazing."

As Buffy had suspected, the taller woman didn't seemed at all surprised by Buffy's sudden appearance into their conversation. She carefully set the half-peeled cucumber and the peeler down before turning to face the teen and smiled in greeting. There was something about strange woman's eyes that captured Buffy's attention. An odd distortion of light across the woman's irises like the gleam off of shattered glass. Her pupils were deep, beckoning pools within the surrounding corona of refracted light, wells of darkness which seemed to almost compel your complete and total attention.

Nest had the same eyes, Buffy remembered. As the gangly younger girl had knelt beside Buffy and desperately forced the magic through their shared gaze, despite the agony Buffy had recognized the beauty of the younger girl's eyes. But trembling Nest's gaze did not have the barely-concealed menace which smoldered in this woman's eyes.

Momentarily distracted by the tall woman, it took Buffy a moment to process the shorter woman's continuous babble. "Wait," Buffy cut her off. "Did you say I was asleep for two days? All that stuff with the bus didn't happen last night?"

"No, dear." The stout woman was moving her arms around in short little waving motions, obviously anxious to touch the teenager to reassure herself that Buffy was really all right but trying to restrain from doing so. "You've slept for over-" she cast a glance at a clock on the wall, "forty-two hours. We were so worried. Elizabeth kept telling us that you would be all right, she's had some medical training, you see. She said that you would wake up tonight. If you hadn't, we were going to rush you to a doctor first thing tomorrow morning. What you did, child! That was a very brave thing to do. Matt and Nest told us all about it."

While the grandmotherly woman happily rambled on, Buffy glanced back at the taller woman who she was assuming to be Elizabeth. The woman had moved forward, the same polite smile fixed upon her face. "Angie dear, would you mind if I went to help our young heroine freshen up for dinner while you finish up? Everyone should be home soon and I'm sure that she will want to make a good first impression."

Angie looked surprised but amiably agreed. "Sure thing. There are fresh towels in the cabinet to the left of the sink. She's welcome to whatever she can find." Turning toward Buffy, she went on warmly, "After everything you did to help Matt and poor little Nest, I know that the boys are all going to treat you like royalty. Please, make yourself at home. If there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you." Buffy answered with a warm smile of her own.

Elizabeth motioned for Buffy to lead the way back towards the stairs.

"How are you feeling?" Elizabeth quietly repeated the same question as they moved up the stairs.

Buffy threw her a quick look over her shoulder. "Fine, like I said. Hungry. Still a little thrown by the whole Rip Van Winkle thing. But good."

"Good." The woman sounded slightly distracted, as if only half-listening to Buffy's response. "We were concerned that there might be… complications."

"Complications?" Buffy repeated suspiciously.

Elizabeth used her eyes to indicate back toward the direction of the kitchen in a warning gesture that they could still be overheard. "With any type of severe injury there is a risk of something going wrong- an infection developing, a certain organ or system not bouncing back as it should. We just want to be careful to take all of the necessary precautions."

By this time they had reached the end of the hallway. Buffy regarded her tall companion carefully for a moment before grudgingly nodding in acceptance of the current situation.

By unspoken consent, Buffy moved into her room to collect a spare change of clothing and a few toiletries from her belongings while Elizabeth entered the bathroom to lay out a fresh towel, washcloth and bar of soap.

When Buffy entered the bathroom, she found Elizabeth gazing vacantly into the mirror, the shower already running. "Please, shut the door," the woman quietly said.

"Okay." Buffy raised an eyebrow but did so. "What's with the cloak-and-dagger?"

Piercing grey eyes turned to regard her carefully. "I'm afraid we don't have much time right now. There will be time later to answer more of your questions. For right now, we'll try to stick to the basics." She ticked the points off on her fingers, obviously having planned this conversation beforehand. "Todd and Angie Fields- the family you're staying with- don't know anything about magic or the supernatural world. As you saw, their son, Matthew, does. The Fields believed that Nest was coming here, at least in part, to avoid her father- a dangerous, abusive and extremely powerful man. They therefore attribute the attack on the bus to actions taken by her father."

"And was he responsible?" Buffy interrupted.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't know." Buffy shrugged, taking a gamble. "It was pretty obvious that all A-positive snacks aside, Nest was the one they were after. If you've got that many vamps going after one person plus her little guard dog plus the kind of magic she was throwing around, well, I'm guessing Big Daddy isn't your everyday Mafia Don."

The dark-haired woman regarded her silently for a long moment through the steam-filled air. "Are you willing to drop this until later when we'll have more time to discuss this in private?"

Buffy met her gaze squarely. "Are you willing to tell me the truth or just stalling in order to come up with a more convincing story?"

A faint smile touched the older woman's lips, the first real smile that Buffy had seen her wear. "I'll tell you everything you need to know."

Buffy decided that was probably as good as she was going to get. "Deal," she chirped in her best Valley-girl voice. "Now going back to the cover story, what wonderful feat exactly am I supposed to have done?"

"You foiled an attempt to kidnap Nest and rallied the rest of the passengers to fight off a bunch of knife-wielding cultists." There was a gleam of amusement in Elizabeth's eyes.

"I… rallied?" Buffy repeated, dumbfounded. "Knife-wielding cultists? Not gangs on P.C.P.?"

Elizabeth blinked. "P.C.P.? Surely no one could really believe that…" she trailed off as she saw the look on Buffy's face. "P.C.P.? Really?"

"Afraid so," the Slayer confirmed. "And packs of wild dogs, natural gas leaks, food poisoning, mass hysteria… It's a long list."

The older woman spent a moment trying to digest that. "The human mind is a fascinating and extremely scary place."

"Amen to that."

A look of mutual understanding was exchanged before Elizabeth slid out the door.


End file.
